


Merlin: in which Arthur is a clot-pole prat, Merlin reveals his magic, Morgana has emotions, Uthur is surprised, and weird shit happens.

by KillerLaurel



Series: Merlin: In Which Many Things Happen [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, Magic Revealed, Morgana is evil, Mostly Innuendo, No Actual Slash, Sassy Merlin, light pairing, then she isn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2012-07-15
Packaged: 2017-11-10 01:16:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KillerLaurel/pseuds/KillerLaurel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was the first Merlin fic I ever wrote. It's a bit light, a bit quick, and not very deep. At least, I don't really think so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merlin: in which Arthur is a clot-pole prat, Merlin reveals his magic, Morgana has emotions, Uthur is surprised, and weird shit happens.

The Day of Reckoning, Merlin reminded himself mentally with every blow Arthur sent his way. He held steady in the face of the onslaught of sword blows against the shield he held up for Arthur to practice violence against. The Day of Reckoning, the Day of Reckoning, the Day of Reckoning.  
“Merlin! You’re supposed to be a battle hardened warrior! Not a cowering woman!”  
“I’d thank you to remember that you know plenty of women who don’t cower,” Merlin quipped, ducking behind the shield as Arthur brought his sword down again. The blow reverberated through his arm and into his chest. He felt as though his arm had spontaneously vanished; he couldn’t feel anything from the shoulder down; the tingles had stopped hours ago.  
“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur sighed, but he put his sword away. “We’re done for the day. Remember that I need my sword sharpened and all my mail and armor polished by dawn. Also, prepare the horses and pack my bags. We leave at dawn.”  
“Yes, sire. Though one would think you’d want to leave later, seeing how bad you are at getting up in the morning.” Merlin grabbed the sheathed sword Arthur was holding out to him and hurried away to the armory before Arthur could find a projectile to throw at him. Arthur glared at his retreating back; he wasn’t sure, because Merlin had always been a cheeky idiot, but he thought Merlin was getting bolder. He shrugged it off.  
The Day of Reckoning, Merlin thought, Yes, one day he’ll see just how much I’ve sacrificed for him. Merlin could feel the magic stirring inside him. He suppressed it, but that was getting harder to do everyday. It was like there was a veritable ocean of power inside him and every time he pushed back the waves, the tide grew stronger, thrusting, insisting on being used. He wanted to use the power, he really did. Merlin wanted so badly to be able to let it out, glory in it, see it’s beauty, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t so long as magic was outlawed. And sometimes, when he was holding back the magic, he forgot to hold his tongue. Merlin was afraid that he would insult the king, or some other noble, highly important person, and be executed without anyone even finding out about his magic.  
He grinned to himself; even his thoughts were tinted by sarcasm and cynicism.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
“Arthur is leaving at dawn on some sort of quest. I’m unsure where he is going.”  
“This is unlike you, Sister. Usually your information is so detailed.”  
“I’m sorry, Sister. I was not present for the meeting and could not overhear what they spoke of. Because I was supposed to be ill, Uther felt it would upset me too much to know where Arthur was headed.”  
“Then it is certainly very dangerous.”  
“Oh, most certainly.”  
“We cannot arrange for an accident if we do not know the prince’s destination.”  
“What are you thinking, Sister?”  
“You will have to go Morgana. There is no other way. So far, all our plans have failed. You must make sure Arthur dies yourself.”  
“If you want something done...”  
“Do it yourself.”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
“Merlin, must you be so annoying so early?” Arthur grumbled as they rode over the countryside.  
“You’re the one who wanted to leave at dawn.” Belatedly, he added, “Sire.”  
“Just stop smiling already.”  
“Yes, Sire.” Merlin put on a comic frown. Arthur tried not to smile too much. He failed.  
“Oh, is the big, bad, mean prince smiling,” Merlin teased, grinning stupidly again.  
“Shut up, Merlin.”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Morgana was a careful woman. But she was also very proud. She was going to kill Arthur Pendragon and she wanted him to know it was she that had orchestrated his downfall. She wanted to see the confusion and betrayal die in his eyes as his life faded.  
It was with these thoughts in the front of her mind that she followed Arthur and his bumbling servant over the countryside, keeping them from noticing her with only a little magic. She’d always been good at subtlety and that was reflected in the ease with which she deflected notice from her and her mount.  
Only once had the idiot servant looked back sharply, as if he could feel her presence. For a second, she thought she saw recognition in those blue eyes, but when Arthur had asked him what he was looking at, he had grinned and said, “Thought I saw a ghost.”  
“In the middle of the day? On a nice field?” Arthur had scoffed. And that had been the end of it.  
At night, Morgana made camp a good distance away from them, but she watched as they sat at their fire (Morgana had not lit one; she didn’t want to alert them and could protect herself from the dangers of night easily enough). The servant, Merlin, was apparently a very good cook, because Arthur had thirds of whatever was in that pot and hadn’t said anything about how horrible it was (a good sign he wanted more, but wouldn’t lower himself to say so). Morgana felt a slight pang at the easy, rough teasing matches between the two that always seemed to end with “Shut up, Merlin.” Arthur and she had once been that close, before she had discovered her magic. Before the dreams had gotten so real. Before she had heard that name. Emrys. The faceless name echoed in her dreams, accompanied by a sense of complete terror. Sometimes there was a dragon. Sometimes she saw eyes glowing a molten, fiery gold, flashing at her in fury. No matter how much she denied it, those eyes scared her. They were the eyes of someone who would die for what they believed in, would kill for it, and she was the one standing between them and what they wanted. She had been told that Emrys was her doom, but Emrys was a sorcerer; he should want the same things she did: a magical Albion.  
The two men lay down to sleep, Arthur with his sword in his hand, Merlin with his clear blue eyes locked on the darkness around them. Sometimes, when Merlin looked at her just right, Morgana thought he knew about her. It felt like behind the idiot servant, Merlin knew far more than was good for him. She would have to kill him too, she realized. She had planned to kill Arthur and leave the servant take the news back to Camelot, and possibly take the blame as well, but no; Merlin had to go, no matter how good he’d once been to her.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
“Arthur, wake up!” Merlin shook the lump of blond prince awake. Arthur blinked at him, bleary eyed and cross.  
“What Merlin?”  
“It’s time to go, Sire.”  
“You’re an idiot,” Arthur mumbled, but he got up. Merlin grinned. “How do you get up so early?”  
Merlin shrugged and tossed dirt on their fire ashes before seeing to the horses.  
“How do you manage to be such a clot-pole?”  
“That’s not a real word.”  
“Yes, it is. It’s my word.”  
“You’re an idiot, Merlin.”  
“So are you, Sire.”  
“Clot-pole.”  
“Daft, useless brute,” Merlin replied cheerfully.  
“Shut up, Merlin.”  
“Yes, Sire,” Merlin grinned. “But you know, you should probably learn how to do something other than fight. You’re useless when it comes to cooking, or cleaning. You can’t even dress yourself.”  
“Yes, I can. Now shut up, Merlin.”  
“You know, I would if that were actually what you wanted,” he said as they mounted up and began riding.  
“What’s that mean?”  
“Well, you always tell me to shut up, but whenever I do, you complain that you miss my “cheeky prattle”.”  
“I do not.”  
“Very well.” And Merlin shut his mouth, smiling like an idiot. They rode in silence for an hour before Arthur was fed up.  
“What’s wrong with you Merlin? Run out of stupid names to call me?”  
Merlin shook his head, his smile growing unbearably smug. And still he kept his silence. Two hours later, Arthur was itching in his saddle for at least one little smart ass remark from Merlin.  
“You know what? If you can beat me to that castle,” Arthur pointed at the ruin they were headed for. It was barely visible, far away, on the edge of the forest. “If you beat me, I’ll admit that I may have been wrong.”  
Merlin’s eyebrows arched doubtfully. Arthur never admitted to being wrong, and he never said sorry for anything. Grinning, Merlin kicked his horse into a gallop without warning, determined to beat Arthur at least once. The abuse he received afterward would be worth seeing Arthur admit to being wrong.  
“Cheater!” Arthur yelled as he followed. It was a long ride. They didn’t reach the ruin until nightfall and by then both their horses were racing along at a walk, as tired as their riders.  
Merlin had won by a couple steps, but Arthur declared the victory null because Merlin had cheated.  
The Day of Reckoning, Merlin reminded himself when Arthur went over his plan for the next day. There was supposedly a sorcerer living in the ruin, practicing black magic. Merlin had tried very, very hard not to snort at the ridiculous tales the villagers had told before the king. From what they described, there wasn’t one speck of black magic happening. It mostly sounded like a child playing with sparks or similarly harmless magics; nothing to fear, and yet Uther was relentless. He’d sent Arthur to hunt down the terribly dangerous sorcerer and kill him. Merlin knew that if it proved to be a child, Arthur would pretend he had found no one, but he also knew that Uther would send a patrol to watch the ruin, and if the sorcerer ever came back, he would be killed, child or no.  
Merlin and Arthur slept like the dead that night, determined to be rested for whatever came their way the next morning.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Morgana was not happy. She really didn’t like camping, but she was determined to wait until after Arthur and Merlin completed their confrontation in the ruin. They would be tired and distracted then.  
She wasn’t quite sure what they expected to find there, but she knew it must be something to do with magic. Uther only really sent Arthur out for what he deemed to be a serious magical threat.  
Morgana snorted, dark hate swirling in her belly. Merely thinking about Uther’s hard, hypocritical, narrow-minded perspective on magic was sickening to the point that Morgana felt like blowing something up just to relieve the frustration. She’d seen what Uther did to those charged with sorcery from a young age. When her own magic surfaced, she’d been terrified almost witless.  
She’d gone to Gaius, but the foolish old man had refused to believe the truth, had tried to convince her that she didn’t have it. If only he had helped her, supported her, she might not have fallen into such anger. She might have been able to wait until Uther died, might have been able to envision a peaceful future. But Uther had the old man under his control, robbing Morgana of the one father-figure who may have made her feel safe. She hated the palace, the city. She hated the place she had loved because she could never be herself there without fear of execution.  
Her Sister had rescued her, taught her that magic was a beautiful thing, a beautiful, powerful weapon. With this weapon, she would bring down the House of Pendragon and all it stood for.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
“Are you sure this is a good idea? Because I’m pretty sure it isn’t. You know what? This is actually one of the worst plans you’ve come up with. We should really think about this, you know.”  
“Merlin.”  
“Yes?”  
“Shut up.”  
“It’s still a bad plan. You’re going to get us both killed someday.”  
“If either of us die, Merlin, it will somehow be your fault. You’re the clumsiest person in existence. You’re the reason that plans always go wrong. Remember that time you were so hung over you let a condemned sorcerer run right past you?”  
“I resent that.”  
“Shut up.”  
“Okay, but this is still a really bad plan.”  
“How is it bad? We’re just going to sneak in the back.”  
“Exactly. If there’s an evil sorcerer in there, he’d be expecting that. He probably has dozens of booby-traps all around the back. But he wouldn’t expect people to go in the front. We should go in the front.”  
“And how would you know how sorcerers think, Merlin? They’re secretive and cunning and you couldn’t keep a secret if your life depended on it.”  
“You’d be surprised,” Merlin muttered.  
“What was that?”  
“Nothing.”  
“Good. Now shut up. We’re going in the back.” Merlin bemoaned his fate as Arthur led them through what appeared to be an old servants’ entrance. Arthur, peering ahead, didn’t notice as the ankle-level thread snapped silently when he moved his foot forward. Merlin tackled him to the ground, making him drop his sword and the torch. Something buzzed by their heads.  
“Arthur?”  
“Merlin, you idiot!” Arthur shook him off and Merlin took that as a sign he was unharmed. “What the blazes what that for?” Merlin glanced around and pointed at the crossbow bolt lodged in the wall. It would have hit Arthur in the side of his head if Merlin hadn’t knocked him down. Arthur frowned at it, clearly unwilling to say Merlin had been right.  
“Do you want to go ‘round the front now?” Merlin asked.  
“No, I can the the light up ahead already. We keep going.” Merlin pulled a face at him when Arthur turned to retrieve his sword and torch. Arthur was more careful of traps, but Merlin had to yank him back from a clearly poisonous gas, stop him from being stabbed by needles coated in some sort of venom, and keep him from going in the wrong direction.  
“The throne room would be that way Arthur. That hall leads to the kitchens. Maybe you should spend some time becoming intimate with the layout of castles instead of using me as target practice.” He paused, “Unless, of course, you meant to go to the kitchens.”  
“Merlin.”  
“Yes?”  
“Shut. Up.”  
They headed for the throne room.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Morgana watched them as they went in the back. Arthur, idiot that he was, had ignored Merlin’s advice. It was good advice, she thought grudgingly. So it seemed the servant wasn’t quite as stupid and bumbling as he made out to be. Morgana wondered briefly if Arthur knew this, but discarded the idea. Arthur was as dense as a rock; it was true that he might’ve gotten the feeling occasionally that there was something more to Merlin, but he obviously had no idea that the servant wasn’t an idiot.  
She made her way around to the front of the ruin, waiting for them to emerge, thinking about which spell she should use to kill Arthur. Maybe she should immobilise him and stab him with his own sword. The sword he had sworn to protect and serve with. She would appreciate the irony. She doubted he would.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
There was no one in the throne room. Merlin hadn’t expected there to be.  
“Oh, would you look at that,” he said, trying to distract Arthur from the supposed sorcerer by pointing at the faded frescoes on the walls and ceiling. The ceiling wasn’t in bad shape and the paintings had been untouched by rain. The ruin wasn’t nearly as much of a ruin as it had seemed. “I don’t think there’s been anyone here for a while, Arthur. Look at all the cobwebs. There was a lot of dust the way we came in.”  
“I know. The place looks like it hasn’t been disturbed in decades. What do you think the villagers meant when they reported false sightings? Father will be furious.”  
“Unless...” Merlin wheedled.  
“Yes, Merlin?” Arthur sighed.  
“You don’t have to tell him.”  
“What’s that mean? Of course I have to tell him. He is my king and my father. I cannot lie to him.”  
“I didn’t say you had to lie, dollop-head, just don’t tell him the whole truth. Really, Arthur, you can be so annoyingly gallant sometimes. Just tell the king you found no trace of the sorcerer.”  
“The truth, but not the truth.”  
“Oh, it’s all true, just not specifically. We haven’t found any traces of the sorcerer, but only we have to know that’s because there is no sorcerer, right?”  
“You’re smarter than I give you credit for, Merlin.”  
“And you’re not as stupid as I give you credit for.”  
“But you’re still a clumsy idiot who doesn’t know how to respect his betters.”  
“And you’re a prat. What else is new?”  
“Shut up, Merlin.”  
“You know, I’ve heard a lot of stories about this place.”  
“You have?”  
“Yes; people call it the Ruins of the Damned.” Merlin whispered the last bit in an ominous voice.  
“Stop being such a girl, Merlin,” Arthur scoffed. He paused, “Why do they call it that? The place doesn’t look damned to me.”  
“Oh, the ruins themselves aren’t damned so much as cursed to damn all who enter,” Merlin answered flippantly.  
“And you didn’t think to mention that before we entered, why?” Arthur hissed, grabbing the front of Merlin’s shirt. Merlin shrugged.  
“Didn’t think it was important.”  
“You are a complete idiot, Merlin!”  
“And, you sir, are a toad face. You would think that if we were cursed, it’d show by now.”  
“I do not look like a toad.”  
Merlin pretended to inspect Arthur’s face closely. “No, you may be right. You don’t look like a toad. Because you aren’t cursed. Stop being such a girl, Arthur.”  
“Is it just me or are you getting a lot more irritating?” Arthur asked, dropping Merlin’s shirt and turning away.  
“Can we go now? You know, since there isn’t a sorcerer and we aren’t cursed?”  
“Yes, Merlin.” Arthur was exasperated as he began to slide his sword away, and as such, he was distracted when the beast leaped at them from the shadows.  
Arthur was startled off balance as he yanked his sword back out of its sheath and tried to level it at the monster barreling towards him. The blood rushed in his ears, blotting out what he thought was Merlin yelling. Why did the man have to be such girl? He landed on his back with a thud and the wind was knocked out of him. What was the idiot doing, standing between him and the monster? Arthur struggled to his feet and thrust the sword past Merlin, scoring a hit on the creature’s side as it turned to avoid being speared upon the blade.  
“Merlin, you idiot,” Arthur pushed the pale man back behind him and took up a fighting stance.  
“Hey, yeah, thanks for the save.” He was breathless. “I didn’t really fancy dying for you.”  
“Can’t you just say thank you properly?”  
“Not until you can, prat.”  
“Just stay out of the way. You’re useless in a fight.”  
“Like I said, prat.” Arthur couldn’t spare any attention to retort; the creature was charging again. “Arthur!” He heard Merlin yell, “It’s heart is on the right side, not the left! Like a dragon!” Without thinking, Arthur’s body adjusted itself so he could both dodge the beast’s claws and aim for the right side of its chest. He missed, but so did the creature. It seemed like he was going to have to line up to dodge another attack, but then the beast tripped, somehow, and fell to the floor, skidding. Arthur turned and approached it, cautious, but still taking the initiative.  
The creature made a yowling sound of pain as it attempted to stand, but failed, falling back on its wounded shoulder. Arthur must’ve wounded it worse that he thought; the fall would have made the pain much worse. Arthur looked at the creature that had tried to kill him and felt nothing except pity. He looked towards Merlin who had approached. Merlin craned his neck so he could look at the wound without getting too close to the creature.  
“You’ve cut the tendons. She’ll never heal right,” he pronounced. Somehow, knowing that the beast was female made a difference. Arthur felt less like killing it than before. Merlin glanced at the shadows from which the beast had sprung. When he began to make his way to the area, the creature twisted on the floor, snarling and yowling and spitting with pain and rage. “She’s got a cub, Arthur. It’s no wonder she attacked when we got too close.”  
“Then I shouldn’t kill her.”  
“Arthur, give me your sword and leave,” Merlin held out his hand for the blade.  
“Are you going to kill her?”  
“I’ll kill you if you don’t give me your sword and make yourself scarce.” Doubtful, Arthur hand over his sword. Was he really so weak that he would leave the death of a mother on his servant’s hands? It seemed he was because when faced with Merlin’s fierce blue eyes, he turned and left the throne room. He walked slowly, expecting to hear the death-cry of the creature any moment. Now that he thought about it, the creature hadn’t really been a monster. She’d been like a large, black leopard of sorts, with what looked like large, bat-like wings folded next to her sides. The more he remembered the beautiful wildness of the creature, the slower he walked until he turned around and hurried back the way he had come. Just outside the door into the throne room, he crashed into Merlin, who was running in his direction.  
“What-?” Merlin grabbed his arm and tugged him away.  
“RUN!” he yelled. The throne room door crashed to the floor behind them. Arthur ran. Merlin led them in a circuitous route, going faster every time the creature roared behind them. The roaring grew more distant the further they went until they heard it no long. They slowed, stopped and looked back. The creature was nowhere in sight.  
“She must’ve gone back to protect her cub.”  
“What just happened, Merlin?”  
“Well, I was there, looking at her and she went quiet... and I think she healed herself. She must be a magical creature.”  
“Oh, really? Ever think that may be why she had wings?” Arthur recovered his breath and cuffed Merlin over the back of his head.  
“Ow! It’s not my fault. You’re the one who dragged us both out to this ruin!”  
“Merlin, listen carefully. I’m going to go wait out front. You go find my sword and meet me there.” Merlin looked down at his hands as if he had just noticed he was missing the sword. “Now.”  
Merlin went.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The sword was in the throne room. Merlin had laid it down while he was healing the Bastet and forgotten it when the creature had chased after him. It really wasn’t his fault. And now he had to go back and get it. Arthur could be such a prat. When he got to the throne room, Merlin peered warily around the doorway, ready to run at a moment’s notice, but it appeared that the creature had thought it better to move her nest. There was no sign of her or her cub.  
Merlin grabbed the sword and beat a speedy retreat, heading for the front of the castle at top speed.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Arthur had been frozen at the spot. He couldn’t move a single muscle, not even his eyes. He was stuck leaning against the mossy stone block wall, his eyes cast just a little to the left, where he’d been watching for Merlin. The idiot was taking forever and now he was entrapped by sorcery with no weapon, view of his attacker, or incompetent servant to bumble in an distract the sorcerer.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Merlin froze; it wasn’t magic, but the absolute and sudden fear that he had failed Arthur. Morgana was strolling leisurely in front of Arthur’s still figure. Merlin had never told Arthur about Morgana, and now he regretted that he hadn’t even tried to warn him. Arthur had the right to know who was trying to kill him. Merlin tightened his grip on Arthur’s sword and edged forward. Morgana wasn’t paying any attention to the dark opening of the castle; she was far too focused on Arthur. The cruel, pleased expression set on her face made Merlin’s blood run cold. He was only a few feet away from them when Morgana began speaking.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
“Did you really believe I came back unchanged, Arthur dearest?” Morgana was saying. Arthur could only stare in silence. “Of course you did,” her girlish mocking tone had declined into something much darker and meaner, full of hate. “After all, you are an idiot. For a while I thought you would be better than Uther: a better king, a better man. But I suppose I was wrong.” She seemed to be getting to the point and this time Arthur wasn’t sure he wanted to know what the point was. “I had planned to kill you with your own sword, but since it isn’t here, I guess I’ll have to improvise.” Arthur was at once fervently glad Merlin was the clumsy idiot he was. Merlin must’ve fetched the sword by now; it felt as if an eternity had passed.  
Maybe he could sneak up on Morgana.  
And maybe my father will love magic someday, Arthur thought with bitterness. No, Merlin was useless, always getting in the way.  
When Morgana moved out of his line of sight, somewhere to the left, Arthur wished desperately that he could move at least his eyes.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Could he do it? Merlin hesitated for a second. Could he seriously kill a woman? Could he kill Morgana? More important, could he kill someone that had once been his friend? Merlin decided that, for Arthur, he could.  
As Morgana moved closer to the doorway, he lunged.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Arthur would’ve have been tense if his muscles could move. His eyes would’ve widened and he would’ve have shifted to protect if he could moved. But he couldn’t move. And so he had to stand by, frozen, his heart beating faster, his mind screaming denial, as Merlin was thrown in front of him and Morgana kicked the sword away.  
“Did you really think you could kill me?” Morgana asked Merlin as he scrambled backward in the dust. “Would try, for Arthur, wouldn’t you? Hear that, dear brother? Merlin here was prepared to stab a woman in the back for you.” Morgana turned her angry eyes on Arthur, her whole being radiating the betrayal she felt. Arthur felt it hard to pity her when she was preparing to kill him.  
“Stop and think about what you’re doing Morgana!” Merlin cried out. “Do you really think that killing Arthur will help your cause?”  
“Why? Because you still believe he’ll be the greatest king Camelot has ever seen?” she snarled. It was clearly a subject they had argued over before.  
“It’s his destiny!” Merlin shot back.  
“Destiny? Where do you get this from?” Morgana was shrieking. She drew out her knife, the ornate knife Arthur had bought her as a birthday gift, and slashed at Arthur’s throat. Arthur would have closed his eyes if he could have. He didn’t want to see death coming for him.  
But he watched as the blade flashed in the light.  
Morgana’s motions seemed to slow.  
The anger and hate and pain in her eyes.  
The jolt.  
The surprise crossing her features as she was thrown backwards.  
Away from Arthur.  
As if she’d been punched in the gut by a giant.  
Thrown into a tree  
A full ten feet away.  
Crumpled to the ground.  
Merlin entering his vision.  
His hand thrust forward.  
Towards Morgana.  
His eyes molten gold as he glanced at Arthur over his shoulder.  
Magic.  
And the spell keeping Arthur captive was broken, and he realized that it must’ve been broken when Merlin- Merlin!- threw Morgana away from him, but he hadn’t moved until Merlin fixed those beautiful, captivating, and thoroughly magical eyes on him.  
Arthur, weak at the knees with shock and a boat-load of other, more confusing emotions, sat on the ground with a thump. He stared up at Merlin, who stared down at him, his golden eyes unreadable. And then Merlin turned away and Arthur turned to look at Morgana who was laying at the foot of the tree she had crashed into. Morgana also looked into Merlin’s eyes and her face twisted in fear.  
It was an odd sort of fear, Arthur thought, like a child with a broken heart afraid of the hand that’s come to hurt her.  
Merlin walked slowly towards Morgana, lowering his hand. “Morgana,” Arthur heard before Merlin lowered his voice. Arthur watched as Merlin crouched next to Morgana. Morgana flinched back from him.  
Arthur took in the scene; his brain processed it at some fundamental level, observing, but not truly comprehending.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
“Morgana,” Merlin said, crouching next to her. She flinched.  
Those eyes. They were her nightmares come to life. Deep and golden and heated and unflinching. She felt the fear deep in her belly. Her nightmares were filled with death and pain and violence and Emrys. Here was Emrys; she could only assume the death and pain and violence were soon to come.  
“Do your worst,” she dared him. The fact that Merlin was Emrys and Emrys was Merlin meant little to her, she realized. What mattered was that she faced him now. What mattered was that she would not let her courage fail her as she faced the specter of her worst nightmares. What mattered was that she would not falter under the gaze of the one thing that had her waking up screaming night after night. No, she would not falter.  
“What is my worst, Morgana?” his voice was soft, even as the gold faded from his eyes, leaving them a deep blue. They were old eyes. Wise eyes. Strong eyes. Understanding eyes. No! “Is this truly what you wanted, Morgana? Did you want to murder your brother?”  
“He is not my brother!” she hissed at him. At Emrys.  
“He is,” Emrys insisted, “You grew up with him. You cheered for him. You believed in him. He believed in you. I ask you again: is this really what you wanted? Did you truly want to bring death and pain and chaos to the people who love you? To Camelot?”  
“You have betrayed your kind, Emrys!” Morgana spat out, trying not to think about the way those gently spoken words, accusatory words, wormed their way into her heart and mind. “You would let Uther live, knowing he would continue to murder our kin!”  
“Morgana, listen to me. Uther will die, but he cannot die by magic. If he dies by magic it will harden Arthur towards magic forever. I ask you again: is this really what you want?”  
There is was. The voice, the words she had heard in her dreams.  
“I can’t do it, Merlin! I can’t stand by while he murders innocents just because they have magic!”  
“And if you killed Uther and Arthur, and you took the throne, you would become Uther. You would punish people because they did not do what you wanted. You would be the magical version of the father you despise so much.”  
Morgana looked up into Merlin’s eyes, desperation and confusion written clearly across her features, as if she was now just thinking about her actions. She reached out to grasp the edge of Merlin’s sleeve and tugged absentmindedly as she stared into Merlin’s face. She opened her mouth, but closed it, unsure of what to say.  
“Mer- Merlin?” she managed at last. Morgana managed to convey all of her confusion and pain and desperation into that one question. Her whole identity was crumbling around her, ripped apart by Merlin’s pointed questions. The more she thought about her actions, the more wrong they seemed. She had been acting like Uther. She had been acting like Uther. She’d tried to kill Arthur. Arthur! She’d tried to kill the man who was like her brother. The man who had taught her to fight when Uther wouldn’t let her learn from the sword-master. The man who had sat by her bed when she was sick as a child, telling her stories until dawn.  
Morgana let out a strangled sob and gripped Merlin’s arm. Merlin’s gathered her up in his arms, holding her like a child who’d just been beaten for no reason.  
And then Morgana was crying, and Merlin held her as she buried her face in his stupid scarf.  
And then Morgana threw her hand out behind Merlin, and her knife flew to it from where it had been dropped in the grass.  
And Arthur cried out, but it was too late.  
Morgana had the knife.  
She yanked away from Merlin...  
And thrust the knife deep into her own stomach.  
Merlin cried out in denial and caught Morgana before she could fall back onto the grass.  
Arthur hurried over, wobbling and stunned.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
“Is she going to be okay?” Arthur asked for the dozenth time that evening.  
“Yes, Arthur.”  
“You’re sure she’ll be okay?”  
“Yes, Arthur. I’d been practicing that spell to use on you for the day when you inevitably got yourself stabbed.”  
“So, you’re a sorcerer.”  
“So, I’m a sorcerer,” Merlin nodded.  
“That explains a lot.”  
“I should hope so. I was beginning to think everyone in Camelot was blind, deaf, and dumb.”  
“So, all those times you said that I’d be dead without you...”  
“Yeah.”  
“How many times have you saved my life?”  
“Including today?” Merlin thought a bit. “Today makes thirty-seven.”  
“Oh, um...”  
“Want to know how many times you’ve saved my life?”  
“Sure.”  
“Four.”  
“Four...”  
“Yeah. Four.”  
“Really?”  
“Yeah. I’ve been counting. For the Day of Reckoning.”  
“So, the first day we met, when you said you could take me apart with less than one blow...”  
“Hmm.”  
“... You really could have.”  
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t.”  
“Why? You obviously think I’m a prat. You’ve never stopped calling me a prat. Why would you risk your life to protect mine?”  
“And Uther.”  
“You saved my father’s life?”  
“Thrice.”  
“You saved my father’s life three times even though he’d kill you if he knew you were a sorcerer.” Arthur was beginning to think his brain would never work properly again. “Why?”  
“Because he’s your father. You love him. And you weren’t ready to be king yet.”  
“Why have you done so much?”  
“Destiny. Arthur, you are the Once and Future King of Camelot, destined to be the greatest king Albion has ever seen. I’m your protector.” Then, quieter: “And because you’re my friend.”  
“So, why you? Why does it have to be you that protects me?”  
Merlin opened his mouth to dismiss Arthur’s question, not really wanting to talk about ‘Emrys’. Morgana interrupted.  
“Because he is Emrys, the greatest warlock the world has ever seen, destined to stand alongside the Once and Future King during a rule of peace and magic.”  
“Morgana, how are you feeling?” Merlin asked as he went to kneel beside the makeshift sickbed he’d made up for her.  
“Like I stabbed myself in the belly.”  
“What did you think killing yourself would accomplish Morgana? You’re almost as stupid as Arthur.”  
“Now you sound like Merlin,” Morgana managed a weak smile.  
“Who else would I sound like?” Merlin was bemused.  
“Emrys,” Morgana replied, but with none of her former malice. “You were my destiny and my doom. I dreamt of you and pain before.”  
“And now?”  
“I see what you will bring.”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Arthur couldn’t hear the conversation between Merlin- Merlin!- and Morgana, and he didn’t try. The sorcerers spoke quietly together, and Morgana’s face was serene, a completely different person from the one who had tried to murder him. Instead, Arthur kept to his own thoughts.  
Merlin was a sorcerer. It didn’t quite seem real. Bumbling, foolish, clumsy Merlin who always had a rude name to call Arthur was a sorcerer who had saved his life thirty-seven times. Clumsy Merlin was a sorcerer who worked night and day to get things done for Arthur who was a complete prat to him. Arthur had been a complete prat to a sorcerer. A powerful sorcerer. Who could take him apart without needing to land a single blow. Who had saved his life. And his father’s.  
… Arthur decided to take a nap.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
“She’ll be fragile for a long time,” Merlin informed Arthur. “Not just physically.”  
“What are you saying?”  
“The Morgana she was before Morgause- let’s call her unbroken. But Morgana broke, and then she healed, but she healed crookedly, like a bone that was set wrong. And now she’s broken again.”  
“And you need to set her right so she heals correctly this time?”  
“Yes.”  
“What about father? What do I tell him about Morgana?”  
“Nothing,” Merlin said, his face set, his voice strong.  
“But he’ll tear the country apart looking for her!” Arthur protested.  
“And he’ll never find her.” Merlin was so sure that Arthur didn’t doubt it. “Uthur had no idea that Morgana set out after us. She probably fed him a story about hunting or some such nonsense.”  
“And she can’t go back to the palace, why?”  
“She needs peace. And I need to shield her from Morgause. The last thing Morgana needs is someone else trying to screw with her emotions.”  
“You’re right, of course,” Arthur sighed. Merlin stared at him, paused in the middle of saddling his horse. “What?”  
“Well, I was wondering who you are and what you’ve done with Prince Arthur. You know, the same prattish prince who always ignores me when I tell him something is a bad idea?”  
“Look, just because I agreed with you on something-”  
“Shut up, Arthur.” Arthur stopped speaking, his mouth open in shock.  
Merlin hid his grin by ducking his head down, but Arthur could see the laughter in his eyes.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
They were riding over the countryside, Merlin with Morgana placed protectively in front of him. She leaned into Merlin’s chest, sleeping, and Arthur wondered again at Merlin’s talent of making his sister- because she was his sister, no matter who their parents- feel safe.  
“So, Arthur...”  
“So, Merlin...”  
“About the king...”  
“What about him?”  
“And my magic...”  
“What magic?” Arthur asked, staring straight ahead. “Magic? Are you stupid, Merlin? You could never have magic, you’re much too clumsy.”  
“Oh, yes, you’re right, Sire. I have no idea what I was thinking.” Merlin was grinning that big, goofy grin that made Arthur want to smile too.  
“Damn right, I’m right, Merlin. And when we get back, you’re going to clean my room, my armor, my mail, my sword, and muck out the stables.”  
Merlin groaned. He had thought Arthur would change even a little after learning about Merlin’s magic, but he should have known better.  
“And then you’re going to tell me everything.”  
Merlin gave up. Arthur sure knew how to roll with the punches life dealt him.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
When Merlin had squirreled Morgana away somewhere very secret and assuredly completely safe, he told Arthur everything.  
Arthur, who had recovered somewhat from the shocking news that Merlin was a sorcerer, was now trying to wrap his mind around the fact that so many of his great deeds and lucky escapes were due to Merlin. Merlin had created the light that saved him on his quest for the Morteus flower. Merlin had killed the Questing Beast. Merlin had killed Nimueh. Merlin had freed the Dragon. Arthur wasn’t sure what he had been thinking.  
“What were you thinking!” he growled at Merlin. “That beast almost killed us all!”  
“He’s the only reason you’re still alive!” Merlin protested. “Kilgharrah is the one that told me I had to save you. He gave me advice that always proved true, and in return he demanded his freedom. I swore to him that I would free him. I didn’t know he was going to unleash his wrath toward Uther on all on Camelot.”  
“Kilgharrah? It has a name.”  
“He’s not and ‘it’, Arthur. He’s an intelligent being.”  
“And you, apparently, are not. If he were so smart, I wouldn’t have killed him, would I?” Merlin looked away, but Arthur caught the blush that turned Merlin’s ears red. He sighed, slouching, “I didn’t actually kill him, did I? What’d you do this time, Merlin?”  
“Um, I might just be...” his voice trailed off and Arthur didn’t hear what he said.  
“Speak up, Merlin. You’re not some blushing maiden who gets flustered in front of her love!”  
Merlin took a deep breath, “I’m the last Dragonlord.” He glared at Arthur as if daring him to make some sort of derogatory comment.  
“But what’s-his-name, Balinor, was the last Dragonlord, and he’s dead.”  
“He was my father,” Merlin admitted, turning away again. Arthur decided he didn’t like that.  
“Merlin, look at me.” He did, his cheeks flushed and his eyes bright and uncertain. “I don’t hate you, even if a lot of the things I thought I’d done were your own doing. I’m not even afraid of you because, apparently, you haven’t done a single thing to hurt me or my family.”  
“I poisoned Morgana,” Merlin pointed out.  
“Yes,” Arthur agreed reluctantly, “You did at that, but if you told me the truth, it was your only choice at the time.”  
“It was,” Merlin assured him, and Arthur believed him. How could he not believe Merlin? Merlin who had saved his “royal prattish backside” so many times. Merlin who had worked behind the scenes and watched as Arthur took all the glory.  
“When I’m king,” Arthur said, coming down from the cloud of thought, “you’ll be Court Sorcerer. I was going to repeal the magic laws anyway,” he added when Merlin’s jaw fell to the floor.  
“You know what you’re saying is treason, right Arthur?”  
“It’s only treason as long as my father is king. And I trust you to keep your mouth shut.”  
“Thanks, Arthur.”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Morgana sat in the wicker rocking chair that Merlin had procured from somewhere especially for her. In her lap was a book in which she no longer had the interest necessary to read it.  
It had been a week since her confrontation with Merlin (she could no longer think of him as Emrys when he had spent hours tending to her well-being) and she had spent the days much the same way: in silence. She wasn’t even sure it had been a full week; the days seemed to run together and she slept when she was tired and ate when she was hungry and listened with a small smile to the wild tales Merlin would tell her about the palace.  
The king was frantic with worry about her, but Merlin had “engineered” false sightings of Morgana on her horse around the countryside and Uther was no closer to finding Morgana than he was to repealing the ban on magic. Merlin would tell her tales about the dragon Kilgharrah and how he had first heard the dragon’s voice when he came to Camelot.  
And Morgana would smile, and slowly the peaceful but dull, unsure emptiness inside her filled with hope for the future. If Merlin was there, she thought the future had a chance of being a good one.  
But one day, Merlin didn’t come. Morgana had been waiting for an hour, her book laying forgotten upon her lap, before she decided that she had to go and look for Merlin because Merlin would never not come.  
A fixed determination settled inside Morgana; Merlin had been there every single day even though she had been set on killing him and Arthur both. Merlin had forgiven her and she would not fail him now.  
“Yah!” she urged her horse into a gallop towards Camelot. Towards the palace. Towards Uther. Towards Arthur. Towards Merlin.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
No one noticed Morgana as she crept into the palace, her cloak drawn forward enough to hide her face. No one paid even attention to her, which was her first warning. The guards, the maids, the servants, were far too occupied building a pyre and gossiping about the sorcerer who was to be burned in the morning. Morgana’s gut twisted in dread.  
She made her way to the balcony overlooking the throne room and watched from an obscure corner as Merlin was dragged forth in chains. How had he been discovered? Arthur should have protected him. And there was Arthur, also chained, the idiot.  
Uther sat on the throne, looking pained and disdainful.  
“Arthur, when the sorcerer is dead, you will see the extent of your folly, and you will thank me.”  
Somehow, Morgana doubted it.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Arthur struggled in his bonds, his eyes glaring daggers at his father and the guilt-stricken guards that held him back. He had roared and argued and tried to reason with his fa- with Uther, but to no avail. His protests served only to convince Uther that Arthur had been enchanted.  
“You are no father of mine,” Arthur spat on the floor of the throne room. The spectators went silent. “If you kill Merlin, I will kill you.” This drew gasps of fear and outrage from the courtiers and servants watching.  
“Arthur, Arthur,” Uther said in his condescending, patronizing way. “I know you don’t mean it. I know the sorcerer has enchanted you. When he is dead you will see that you meant none of this nonsense.” Arthur only growled in response.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Merlin was quiet; he didn’t struggle, he just kept those deep blue eyes trained on Uther as the man looked down at him. Merlin could kill him. He could kill him without a single thought. Except he could not. Not with Arthur watching. Because whatever Arthur said, he would resent it if Merlin killed Uther.  
Merlin made his choice.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Morgana watched in horrified silence, torn between helping Merlin by killing the guards or sticking to what Merlin told her: magic should be used as a force for good, not to harm others.  
Morgana decided.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Uther watched in horror as the guards holding the serving boy- the sorcerer!- on his knees were blasted away. They hit the walls and lay groaning on the floor. The spectators began to scream and flee.  
The sorcerer- what was his name? Merlin? What kind of name was that?- stood, slowly. His eyes, glowing with molten gold, were fixated on Uther. Uther gripped the arms of his throne, a real proper fear coursing through his veins. Here was someone who could kill him and ruin all his work in one fell swoop.  
“Uther Pendragon,” the sorcerer’s voice was deeper than before, heavy with power. “Your day will come and when you journey to the Other Side, the Cailleach will be waiting for you. And with the Cailleach will be the souls of every innocent you tortured and condemned to death. But that day is not today.”  
And the chains fell from around Merlin.  
And the sorcerer spoke in the deep, rumbling, rasping, ancient tones of an Old language.  
And the wind stirred.  
And the ceiling of fine, white stone was torn asunder.  
And the White Dragon entered, flame licking at his nostrils.  
And Merlin, sorcerer and Dragonlord, was gone.  
Morgana slipped away.  
Merlin was free.  
Arthur looked at the blue sky through the ruined ceiling and felt his anger fade.  
Merlin was free.  
Uther fell to the ground, clutching his chest where he felt his heart stutter.  
The sorcerer was free.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Morgana found Merlin waiting for her in the small cottage he had set her up in. She had the strongest suspicion it was hidden by magic, but Merlin would never tell her what he had done.  
Merlin gave her a wide, goofy smile and she smiled back, feeling like more than a shadow or a shell of a person for the first time in a while.  
“Morgana, you look more like yourself,” Merlin greeted her.  
“It’s all thanks to you, Merlin. I don’t know why you did it, but I don’t think I can ever repay you.”  
“It’s only fair, since I did poison you,” Merlin joked. Morgana smiled. Before, she would have been bitter, hurt, tearful at the memory of the hemlock Merlin had fed her, but as she told Merlin the first day in the cottage,  
‘I had my vengeance for that, Merlin, long ago. You’ve apologized. I realize that was the only way to break the spell. I should not have trusted Morgause so blindly.’  
“So, you speak the Dragon tongue?”  
“It comes with the job,” Merlin quipped. Then he turned serious, “Aithusa was the dragon that hatched from the egg in the tomb of Ashkanar.”  
“Aithusa,” Morgana let the name roll off her tongue, “That’s a beautiful name.”  
“I named him after the light of the sun.”  
“That’s how dragons are hatched, is it not? When the Dragonlord names them?”  
“Yes, but how-?”  
“I’ve been reading up,” Morgana explained sheepishly. “So, how did you get caught?”  
“What-? Morgana?” Merlin was apparently very surprised, considering he started guiltily and dropped the apple he’d just washed. He picked it up and washed it again.  
“How did you get caught using magic?” Morgana asked slowly. This was going to be a good story; Merlin had turned an incredible shade of red.  
“Sparks.”  
“Sparks?”  
“Yeah, the little, colourful ones.”  
“And under what circumstances were these sparks seen?” Morgana was smirking, but trying very hard not to and failing miserably.  
“Kissing,” Merlin squeaked out, looking increasingly uncomfortable. Morgana’s eyebrows shot up.  
“Is it safe to assume that you were kissing Arthur?” she asked seriously. Merlin nodded, turning an even deeper shade of red. Morgana wasn’t even sure how that was possible. So she enveloped him in a big hug, tugging teasingly on one of his ears. “Oh, Merlin, that’s so sweet!”  
“It is?” his question was muffled.  
“Yes it is. You two have been dancing around each other for far too long.” Morgana didn’t mention that before Emrys (that was the way she thought of the events at the ruins; she didn’t like thinking about her actions so she thought of it as the day Emrys saved her instead) she had thought their infatuation with each other annoying. Now it was just shy of adorable. Arthur would kill her if she ever said so. “I shall have to mention this at your wedding,” she ruffled Merlin’s hair. “And then I’ll have two little brothers!”  
“Arthur will kill you,” Merlin said, voice still muffled.  
“He can try,” Morgana laughed, “but it will be too much fun not to mention it.”  
“Speaking of Arthur, did you see what happened after I escaped?”  
“No, but if something were wrong, I think I’d know.”  
“Should we find some way of checking on him?”  
“Gwen?”  
“She still serves as a maid. Uther didn’t have the heart to dismiss her when he thought he could find you again.”  
Morgana’s lip curled at the mention of Uther, but she nodded and released Merlin from her embrace.  
And they bent their dark-haired heads together, eyes crinkled at the corners with mischievous mirth.  
And the co-conspirators conspired.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Arthur had been locked in his room. Again. His father was dying and they had locked him in his room.  
“Sire? Arthur?” Arthur rushed to the door.  
“Gwen? Is that you?”  
“Yes; Merlin and Morgana contacted me. They wanted to know you haven’t been punished. Are you alright?”  
“They won’t let me see my father.” There was a short silence. “Gwen?”  
“Wait a moment, Arthur. We have to convince them that Merlin’s spell over you has broken.”  
“There was no spell!”  
“Shut up, Arthur,” Gwen said through the door, like he was an idiot. And she sounded so much like Merlin telling him that he was an insufferable prat that he shut up. “Of course Merlin didn’t enchant you. But they believe that and there’s not much going to change that at the moment. I’ll be right back.”  
“Hurry, Gwen!” But her footsteps had already faded.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
“Sire!” Gwen burst into the king’s chambers. “Gaius! The spell on Arthur is broken!” Uther was sitting up in bed as Gaius attended to him. He was looking decidedly grey and tired.  
“What are you saying?” Gaius asked sharply.  
“He stopped banging on the door so I called out to him. He sounded confused and asked what happened. I told him. He wishes to see you, Sire.” Gwen curtsied to Uther, frantically hoping her lie would work.  
“Tell the guards to release him at once,” Uther ordered.  
“Yes, Sire,” Gwen said before hurrying away.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Arthur knelt next to Uther’s bed, one of his father’s hands in his own. “Arthur, I want you to know that I was never once disappointed with you.”  
“You are not going to die.”  
“I’m dying, Arthur. I’m old. It’s your turn to rule, and I believe that you are prepared. Remember, magic is evil.” Uther drew one last shuddering breath and his heart stuttered to a halt. All his muscles relaxed, his chest was still, his eyes blank and staring. Arthur moved his hand gently over Uther’s eyes, closing them. Behind him he heard Gaius speak.  
“The king is dead,” he announced, loud enough for the guards in the hall to hear. “Long live the king!”  
And the call was echoed by all who heard it.  
And the kingdom rang with calls.  
And there were mixed emotions.  
Fear.  
Grief.  
Joy.  
Relief.  
Hope.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
“Arthur? Have you hit your head, or are you just showing your stupidity more blatantly than before?”  
“Shut up, Merlin. I’m repealing all those stupid magic laws and nobody is going to argue with me. I’m king, I can do what I want.”  
“You’re a clot-pole, cabbage-head.”  
“Those aren’t words Merlin.”  
“They’re idiomatic.”  
“You’re idiotic.”  
“Stop fighting,” Morgana sighed. “You two seriously need to do something about that repressed sexual tension before you kill each other.”  
“What repressed sexual tension?”  
“I won’t kill anybody!” Merlin looked offended. Arthur glanced at him.  
“You’re supposed to deny that there’s sexual tension, Merlin,” he explained.  
“It’s not like Morgana doesn’t know.”  
“Correct, Merlin,” Morgana nodded. “And when you finally decide to resolve this, do it somewhere other than the forest.”  
“The forest?” Merlin asked at the same time that Arthur turned a brilliant shade of red and placed his face in his hands.  
“Merlin,” he said from behind his hands. “Morgana’s been having dreams again.” Even his ears and neck were beet red. Merlin swiftly blushed to a matching shade.  
“And I would thank you to forget about that,” Morgana sniffed daintily.  
“Oh god,” Arthur was muttering under his breath, “oh god, oh god.” He started banging his forehead on the table.  
“Arthur, shut up,” Merlin ordered. He was still really embarrassed as he grabbed Arthur and pulled him out of his seat. “Let’s go.”  
“Merlin!” Morgana called after them. “Remember, you can do a lot of interesting things with magic!” She didn’t bother to stop the smug smile that crossed her face because she didn’t think Arthur had ever looked so mortified in his entire life, including the incident with the dress when he was seven.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The king and his Court Sorcerer stood on the ramparts, watching as Morgana turned briefly on her horse to wave to them. They saw her wide smile before she bent low over her steed and urged the beast faster. The knights behind her hastened to catch up. Merlin had convinced Arthur to let Morgana lead the team of knights patrolling the borders of Camelot. With Morgana along for the patrol, Merlin could communicate directly with them via magic.  
There had been a week-long festival in the Lower Town that started the day Arthur lifted the bans on magic. It had drawn the Druids out of hiding when Merlin had been appointed Court Sorcerer. There were still small skirmishes, and negotiations were underway with King Odin, who was proving to be a bit of a sore loser.  
But other than a few trouble makers and one bitter king, Camelot was at peace. For the first time in years.  
Arthur and Merlin looked at each other, smiling. Behind them, in the Lower Town, they heard yelling as Gwaine was chased out of yet another tavern. Horses whinnied, Gwaine laughed, Percival (who’d been dragged along for the ride) ran after Gwaine, pedestrians leaped out of the way, and the proprietor of the tavern chased the two knights down the street, waving a frying pan over his head and threatening Gwaine with bodily harm if he caught the knight.  
All was right in Camelot.


End file.
